


A Change Of Pace

by adarkworldfantasy



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3961945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adarkworldfantasy/pseuds/adarkworldfantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vincent thought that he would have just another quiet night of strolling through the city, but that all changes when he comes across a familiar face from the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change Of Pace

Another night of walking. Most thought that Vincent was strange for the amount of hours that he would spend wandering the streets of the city but it was something he enjoyed to do and it gave him something to do. Where his friends had jobs and homes to return to at the end of the day, Vincent didn't have this. Not explicitly at least as he didn't have a place that he could really call his own, nor did he really feel a need to have a place of his own as he was not accustomed to residing in one place for long. Perhaps it was due to his childhood, the constant moving due to his father's work, or even when he had joined the Turks and missions sent him across the continent that made it a part of him. Not that it mattered anymore. It was just the way that he was.

When he was not roaming the city and dispatching monsters that had wormed their way in, he would visit Cid for a few days if he was not busy with work and would also stay at the Seventh Heaven with Cloud and Tifa upon occasion. However after so many nights of hearing the boisterous crowd from his room upstairs, even that got to be too much at times. Not to mention that there were nights where a certain patron by the name of Cid Highwind, of whom would need a room to stay in for the night rather than driving home, would ultimately end up in his room. Waking up with a one hundred and ninety pound man sleeping and drooling on him had not exactly been on the most pleasant ways of waking up. Nor were the times where Marlene would take a picture of them when she had at first just came in to tell them that breakfast was ready. Vincent adored both Cid and Marlene, but drool and pictures were not needed. Same went for the five-by-seven prints of them.

So out for a walk it was. Red orbs turned up to look at the darkening sky above, the soft warning rumble of thunder telling him that it would not be too long before the rain would start to fall. He loved the rain, particularly the petrichor of it that replaced the pungent and stagnant smells of the large city. The only thing that he didn't care for when the rain came was the added weight that his cloak would gain. The material was nice for keeping him warm when the weather was cold but he could do without the several gallons of water that it would hold. With that thought in mind he began his search for a place to sit and watch the storm as it rolled through.

He continued his way down the dim-lit street, eyes scanning over the people he passed and nodding his head in a way of saying 'hello' to those that spoke a kind greeting in passing or offered a smile to him. For the most part he didn't pay much mind to those that he passed until he spotted someone ahead of him by nearly twenty paces, taking note of the slight stagger in their step. He wouldn't have paid much attention to the person walking as he did with others that he passed, but wondered if something was wrong when they had suddenly paused in step by an alleyway. Curiosity getting the best of him, like it often did, he slowly strode over to see if something was wrong.

Vincent drew close enough to stretch out a hand to settle upon the shoulder of the staggering adult, about to ask if they needed assistance, but before he was even able to speak a single word, the person whirled out of his reach. The bag they had been carrying was dropped, one hand snapping up to grasp at the metal arm and yank it to the side. Vincent's right hand snapped into action with lightning speed and whiped his gun out of his holster and pointed it directly in the center of the other's forehead just as the other pointed one at his own. Vincent frowned as he looked into the eyes of the other, how they were dulled and tired looking, obviously having had far too much to drink. "Tseng?"

"Vincent." The tone was flat and detached but it was an acknowledgement at least. He let go of the bronze gauntlet and lowered his gun from it's position. "You should know it's dangerous to one's mortality to sneak up on a Turk like that," he said, pulling his jacket open to replace the gun into his holster.

"My mortality isn't something I concern myself with most days," he retorted. Even for as inebriated as Tseng looked to be, his reflexes showed that it didn't matter how intoxicated he was, he knew when and how to act in the face of possible danger. Upon replacing his own weapon back into his holster he cast a glance to the cloth bag that Tseng had dropped, quickly scanning over the contents. He raised a brow. "Are you planning on breaking a new record on alcohol consumption or has Cid challenged you to a drinking contest?" he asked, having counted at least three bottles of liquor inside it.  
Tseng snorted as he looked through the contents of the bag, making sure that none of the bottles had cracked or broke when he dropped it. "Hardly. I simply plan on having a good night."

"By becoming a bit more than completely wasted?"

"Precisely." Tseng picked up the bag, looping the handles over his wrist. "What else am I to do on a Saturday night?"

Vincent shrugged. "I simply did not picture you as one to resort to spending your evening with a bottle."

"Sometimes a person needs to alter their daily habits. Otherwise one can become dull and cold. As I am both, according to a general consensus," he said, holding the bag up, "I'm resorting to this." He nodded to Vincent. "What about yourself?"

"Walking."

Tseng raised a brow. "Again?" It wasn't as if Tseng made a point to keep track of what the ex-Turk did during his days but rather it was a regular occurrence to see the man aimlessly strolling through the city both during the day or at night. "You must have good shoes," he commented, turning his attention to the brass-plated boots. Who knew how old the wardrobe actually was but it seemed to be in good condition. "For as much walking as you to, I am surprised your shoes still have soles on them." ShinRa issued fatigues at it's finest, he supposed. At least the boots. He was quite sure that ShinRa didn't ever issue such an attire like Vincent's at any point. "Is there much else that you do?" he asked, deviating from his inner thoughts.

Vincent shook his head. "In the grand scheme of things these days, no. Not unless I am needed for something else."

"It seems you could do with a change of routine then as well." He swung his hand and turned on his heel to continue walking in the direction he had been walking in. "Come. Have a drink with me."

"Me?"

"No, the moth sitting on your shoulder," Tseng said a short moment after. He snorted softly and shook his head. "Of course you, Vincent. Come. Have a drink with me. I did hold a gun to your face, after all."

Vincent's lips pulled into a thin line. He was unsure if joining him for a drink was something he wanted to do but regaurdless he found himself taking stride to walk beside him. Even if he didn't join him into his place he could at least make sure he didn't fall on the way there. "I held one to yours as well." His brow raised once more as Tseng stopped walking and turned to face him. He expected some sort of smart remark from the dark haired man or perhaps even a dirty look, but instead watched as Tseng reached up to pluck something off his shoulder. _'I'll be damned,'_ he thought to himself. There _was_ a moth sitting on his shoulder.

"Then consider this my way of saying thank you," the Director spoke as he let the small winged insect crawl onto his index finger. He stepped past Vincent to a garbage disposal can to Vincent's left. "You did save my life when the remnants attacked me. And as I know you are not a materialistic person, the least I can do is offer you a drink."  
Vincent watched as Tseng took care to let the small insect fall off his finger and on top of the bin without causing damage to the small thing. "I didn't expect a debt to be repaid. You needed help. I provided it."

Tseng snorted once more, watching as the moth soon took off and fluttered towards the streetlight above them. "Then just humour me." Onyx eyes shifted back to Vincent briefly before he began walking down the street once more. 

"I'm not exactly a person of humour, Tseng," he replied. "My humour is about as dry as Cid's bank account after he spends a day at the chocobo race tracks."  
Tseng laughed softly at this and Vincent found himself looking at the dark haired man with surprise. The rare noise coupled with the small smile that accompanied it was almost strange to see on the Director. Then again, he was sure most would think the same thing about himself if he was to do the same.

"Then I guess we have that as a common ground." Once more, the Director started walking. "Come. Before the rain starts."

Thankfully the walk to Tseng's aparment complex was not far from where Vincent had encountered Tseng, but it was unfortunately not close enough that they avoided getting caught in the downfall of the rain that had settled in not moments after Tseng had mentioned the rain. With haste, Tseng had unlocked the door and quickly moved inside, Vincent quickly keeping in step behind him.

"I'm surprised that thing is not choking you yet," Tseng commented. "It looks like it weighs a ton...and seems to be holding that much weight in water," he added, his eyes looking down to the sound of running water, watching the thin streams of water weeping from it and onto the floor.

"It feels like it," Vincent could agree and went to undo the buckles on the cloak. He made quick and easy work of unhooking the belts holding the garment over his shoulders and carefully slung it off his shoulder and started to bundle the leaking cloth together. "Well...it did need to be washed."

Tseng chuckled once more. "Let's get to my apartment. You can hang it up in the bathroom and let it finish draining there."

Vincent nodded and followed the dark haired man to the elevator, riding up to the fifteenth floor and down a long hallway to Tseng's apartment. The man fiddled with his keycard to open the door and opened it up. The apartment was nothing special. All but one wall were white, the other with grey accents to cut up the monotony of the living space. No pictures on the wall. No decorations to fill an empty space. Other than a small collection of books upon an otherwise empty shelf, the apartment held nothing or personal desire or touch. It reminded him of Veld and how his place was much the same. All a part of a Turk's life, Veld would say. For as much as missions would take them away from what they would call their home and knowing that at there was always a chance that they would not live to see another day, such things like cheap, cookie-cutter decorations or other frivolous items were deemed unnecessary to have. It made for less hassle, in both events.

"Bathroom is right there," Tseng spoke, flicking his hand in the direction of a door partly open at the other end of the living room. He carried the bag to the living room, setting it on the wooden table. "I can bring you a change of clothing until yours dries."  
"I doubt you would have anything that would fit me," Vincent commented honestly, making his way to the bathroom to hang up his drenched cloak.  
"I am sure I could find something that would work temporarily," he said, stripping out of his wet suit jacket. 

"There's no need to go to all that trouble," Vincent called from the bathroom. He stepped over to the tub and wrung out the cloak, eyes widening comically large as an amount he estimated to be a gallon of water splashed into the tub. "Goodness..." He knew that the cloak could absorb a fair amount of water but he'd never truly paid attention _that_ closely.

Tseng chuckled to himself as he heard the sound of water splashing in the tub. "It's no trouble to me. Besides, you escorted me home. It would be rude to leave you to sit in a puddle for the night."

Vincent wrung the cloak once more, his face scrunching up as nearly the same amount of water drained from it. "I've sat in worse."

Tseng stilled at the thought. "I think I would rather not know what 'worse' is." He shook his head, a semi-amused look upon his face as he went to make his way to his bedroom. Once in his room, he made quick work of peeling the soaked clothing off himself and getting changed into a pair of sweat pants and a white singlet. The clothing clung to him a bit more than he wanted, but it was better than before. He gently shook his head and went to his closet, shuffling through what he had and grabbed some clothing for Vincent that he hoped would fit. A moment later he was walking back out and to the bathroom. "Here," he said, dropping a pair of black sweatpants and a black dress shirt on the lid of the toilet then carefully slinging his wet clothing over the shower curtain rod. "You can use those. They should fit you."

Vincent looked to the clothing left behind and had turned to say thank you to the other but when he did, Tseng had already left the room. Vincent pursed his lips. This wasn't the Tseng he remembered. It was strange to say the least.   
Perhaps it was the alcohol he had consumed. He couldn't be sure.  
With a gentle shake of his head, Vincent started to undress, hanging up his clothing over the shower curtain rod as well. He quickly dried himself off and dropped the towel into the tub before slipping into the clothing that had been left behind for him. The pants were a bit short in the leg and the shirt hung on him a bit more than he cared for but it was nice to be in something dry at least. He was thankful for that. After tightening the drawstring on the pants and tying them so they would actually stay on his hips, he stepped out of the bathroom and into the main room.

"Do they fit?"

Vincent paused in midstep at the question as his eyes came to settle on the Turk. The abrupt change in the Director's appearance had caught him off guard to say the least. To see the man who was always seen wearing a neat and pressed suit with the aura of importance surrounding him to be dressed in such leisurely attire like sweatpants and a tanktop, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch with a drink in hand and a selection of drinks before him. He looked like a college student dreading the last round of finals rather than the Director of the Turks. "Not...too bad. Thank you." He tipped his head a bit as he looked at the man's shoulder, noticing the black marks there. He had a tattoo?

"Something wrong?"

Vincent shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

Tseng snorted. "Is it the clothes?"

"A bit," he admitted quietly. 

Tseng huffed a short laugh as he opened the bottle. "Come sit," he said and shifted upwards to grab the other glass he'd set out. He looked over when he heard the creaking of the leather couch, smiling a bit as the man sat down on the floor a couple feet from him. "I'm not going to bite," he said as he poured him a drink, focusing on keeping his hand steady as he did so. "I'm off duty."

Vincent huffed a short laugh at the comment, finding it rather amusing. "Tseng, how much did you drink before I came across you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm beginning to think you either have dual personalities or that the scientists at ShinRa finally found a way to switch brains between humans."

Tseng laughed once more, smirking lightly. "I told you, sometimes daily routines need to be altered. Same goes for how a person acts." Once he'd filled the glass, he recapped the bottle and set it back down with the other bottles he'd set out for them. "There," Tseng said, nudging the tumbler on the table filled with auburn-coloured liquor in front of Vincent. "Something to help drown the demons."

Vincent snorted and picked up the drink that had been set before him. "I can't drown my demons, Tseng," he said, then took a large swig of the drink and set it down once more. "They know how to swim."

Tseng was silent for a brief moment before going on to say, "Perhaps make them float for a while?"  
"You're beginning to sound like Cid," Vincent commented.

Tseng raised a brow as he looked at him over his own glass of alcohol that he'd picked up from the table. "If I didn't respect you so much, I would smack you for saying such a thing."

Vincent didn't know why, but he couldn't help but chuckle at the comment. "He's a good man, Tseng."

"From what I have seen and heard, yes, but...the colourful vocabulary he has, I could much do without."  
Vincent chuckled once more. "He does have quite a way of wording things at times," he replied. His eyes flickered to Tseng as he raised his glass before him. "But I am sure he's not the only one who has said rather unpleasant things in the past. I myself am guilty of it as well." He took a swig of the drink. "Can you say the same for yourself?"  
A forlorn smile tugged at Tseng's lips as he continued to turn the glass upon the table, seemingly hypnotized by the action. "There is no denying that. Not that the job helps. In this line of work, it takes it's toll." Tseng broke his trance with the glass he was turning before him to take a sip of the pungeant liquid only to set it back immediately and doing the same thing again. "Being cold and ruthless is just something that becomes a part of you after some time. A way of self preservation, I suppose you could say, though it's not much of an excuse I suppose. Not that many understand that."  
Vincent looked back to his drink. "I understand."

"I know you would, but others do not," he said. "The opinions of Turks has been a grim one since the beginning and that is likely never to change in the eyes of many people. So there is no point wasting time thinking upon it."

Vincent's brows knitted in mild distaste. "Easier said than done."  
"You can't let the opinions of others rule you, Vincent. It will only destroy you in the end if you do."

"That's easy for you to say. At least you are normal. I am far from it," he said, casting a glance to the gauntlet he wore. "Especially now." He raised a brow at the snort he heard. "What?"

"Please," Tseng started, grabbing for the bottle on the table and topping up his glass once more. "The only 'normal' that exists these days is the setting on a washing machine."

Vincent rolled his eyes. "So me being over sixty yet look like I'm not even thirty is something you call that normal?"

"No. I call that sexy."

Vincent sputtered at Tseng's words and candidly he said it, glad he had not taken too large of a sip of his drink that that moment so he did not choke. "What?"

"What?" Tseng shrugged. "Would you prefer lucky? Do you know how many people would kill to have that trait?"

Vincent was unsure how to respond to that, the sexy comment particularly, but he shrugged it off for the time being, not thinking any more into that. He cleared his throat. "It's not a trait I can say that I am overly happy to have attained," he said, repositioning himself on the floor once again and leaning back against the couch once more. "Nor do many call me sexy for it. There's been a fair share of people that have looked at me like I am a monster. And I'm inclined to agree with them most days." He blinked at the quick back-handed swat he received on the leg.

"You're not a monster, Vincent," he chastised but in a gentle manner.

"To some, I am."

"As I am to many as well," he responded and slugged down the rest of his drink. "You can't let what others say of you rule you. It will destroy any shred of humanity you have left...and then you will be the monster you feel you already are." Tseng reached out and snapped up the bottle on the table to pour himself another drink. "And it will only get worse from there."

Vincent frowned lightly as he looked at Tseng and reached out to take the bottle he was fumbling with and poured the man a drink to avoid him spilling it all over the table. "So you're not hurt when people call you a monster?

Vincent set the bottle back down, his attention once more turned back to Tseng as he awaited his answer. He watched as Tseng stared at the amber-coloured liquid in the glass as he gently swished it back and forth, the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes growing darker with a sudden sorrow that was taking over his features as the seconds ticked by. 

"Everyone is a monster, Vincent," the Turk spoke in a voice that Vincent could only describe as sounding broken and defeated. "The only thing that differs us from one another is a matter of degree and perspective."

Vincent was unsure the statement from Tseng was an accurate one or not but taking a step back, looking at those he had once encountered or had even heard of, it did make sense. To some Hojo was not a monster, but rather a scientific genius. Though there were many that viewed him as vile and his methods inhumane or taboo, there were many others that praised his intellect, his ability to achieve things that were once thought to be impossible. Then there was Sephiroth, a child raised in labs to become the greatest SOLDIER known to man of whom would later try and destroy the planet that he felt betrayed him. It had not been his fault what had been done to him but there were many that did not care about that.

"Do you ever regret joining the Turks, Tseng?"

Tseng set the glass upon the table, watching a couple beads of moisture roll down the side of the glass and pool around the bottom, creating yet another mark upon the polished, cherrywood. "I never used to at first," he started to speak while grabbing a napkin to wipe off the droplets on his glass. "Ever since I was young, I had wanted to move to the mainland, join the Turks, strive to be the best, to make a name for myself..." A half-hearted snort came from him as he gently shook his head. "As it turned out I wound up making numerous names for myself. For the grand amount, unkind ones, and not just from the people I've encountered. The war didn't help either." Tseng lifted the glass, taking down the cold liquid and draining the glass. "I suppose that's why people say 'be careful what you wish for'."

It was in that moment that Vincent realized where the sudden sorrow had come from when he'd asked Tseng the question. He didn't have to know all the details of the war against Wutai to imagine how Tseng felt about it. To be in a war and fighting against the country one was born and raised in, to prove he belonged to the company that he had vowed his devotion to more than the home he came from...even for someone who came across as cold as Tseng could, the look on his face told him that the scar from it was a deep one.  
"There's days I wish I was no longer a part of the Turks. But it's so much a part of me now that I do not think I could break away from it now," Tseng continued to say. "I still remember the day I told my father about wanting to work for ShinRa. I meant no disrespect to my father, but I did not want to spend the rest of my days as a farmer like he was. When I told him what I wanted to do, I could see it in his eyes that he wasn't pleased with the idea. At the time I was afraid what his reaction would be, but instead of trying to talk me out of it he said if it was something that I truly wanted then I should work hard and strive to achieve my goal. Strangely enough now...there's days where I wish I _was_ just a simple farmer. It would be so much easier." A moment after, he snapped from his thoughts and looked to Vincent of whom was looking at him with a gaze that he could only interpret as concerned. "My apologies," he said, looking back to his glass so they could avoid awkward staring, "I'm beginning to ramble."

"It's fine," Vincent replied. From the way Tseng spoke, he was not much different than himself and kept such thoughts locked away. If he felt comfortable and relaxed enough to speak of it, then he would gladly listen.

"I would ask you the same but I am quite sure I already know the answer."

"I am sure you do," Vincent answered in short and quickly downed the rest of the potent liquid in his glass. "I suppose we're both the same in that aspect. Though my realization in reguards to making the wrong choice came at a different cost."

Tseng reached over and picked up one of the bottles, uncapping it once more then taking the liberty of refilling Vincent's glass for him. "If it's any consolation, you were an excellent Turk."

Vincent scoffed. "I wasn't that great," he said, his voice tinted with bitterness. "Obviously. Otherwise I would not have ended up as I had."

"That wasn't by your fault," Tseng spoke plainly as he set the bottle back down.  
Vincent gently rolled his eyes over to the man who was sitting back once more and before taking a sip from his refilled glass, he asked, "And what makes you believe that?"  
Tseng looked back to Vincent, a look of conviction in his ebony eyes. "You did your job. Your charge was to protect Doctor Cresent and her wellbeing, and you did. When she agreed to do the experiment," he said, knowing full well that VIncent knew of the one he was refering to so he did not elaborate any further, "you stated your concerns because you knew that it was dangerous. Technically speaking, you did nothing wrong. You were looking out for her well being and that's what you did. You were doing your job."  
"Even if I do agree with you, that I did my job and that and did it well, it certainly didn't end well," he pointed out.

"Not every mission is a success, Vincent. You should know this. All the turks know this." To avoid Vincent further speaking down about himself, he quickly went on to speak of other things of Vincent's past. "Aside from that one mission, you were one of the top turks of your time, your testing marks were excellent, graduated in the top five. And your record in the range has never been broken. There's still many striving to try and beat it. You are an inspiration to many that joined the Turks. Even myself."

Vincent cast an incredulous look at the Turk. "Me? An inspiration?"

Tseng nodded. "Think of it this way, Veld didn't often speak highly of and use other Turks as examples, especially ones as young as yourself at that time," he pointed out. "He thought very highly of you. That says a lot there."

Vincent conceded to that and gave a small nod. Though his opinion on the matter was a bit different, he wasn't going to argue with it with Tseng. He seemed to be just as resolute in his opinion as much as his own. "I suppose I just wish I had done things differently."

"Everyone feels that way about something at some point, to be able to avoid something that brought themselves or others a great pain." Tseng swirled the liquid in his glass before taking another swig. "Pain doesn't go away, Vincent," he said. "You just make room for it."  
Silence followed Tseng's statement for several moments before Vincent broke that silence. "Have...you ever gone back home? Since you came to work for ShinRa."

Tseng looked to the glass that Vincent was picking up, his gaze following it to Vincent's lips before he tore his gaze away. "Only once," he said, following suit and taking a sip of his own drink. "I went to visit my mother. She was able to look past the fact that I had just been following orders, and didn't see shame or dishonor in my actions. Other's didn't quite see it that way." A sigh escaped his nostrils and he lifted his free hand to draw over his face. "If it wasn't for the belittling comments and cruel words fired in my direction, I would have gone back. I could live with it...but I don't think my mother could. She said it didn't hurt her, but I could see it did."

"I'm sorry, Tseng," he spoke softly. "Do you still keep in contact with her at least?"

Tseng nodded. "A letter every week. So she knows I am still alive."  
Another short period of silence followed before Vincent spoke again. "You should go see her."

Tseng raised a brow and looked to the red eyed man. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"That's not the point," Vincent spoke adamantly. "She's your mother. You deserve to see her as much as she deserves to see you. You should be grateful you have a parent that is alive and you can see when you want."

Tseng opened his mouth, intent on making a reply but found himself going silent. He had forgotten in that brief moment that Vincent had lost both his parents when he was young so it was no surprise that he was seemigly insistent in the idea of him seeing his mother. Vincent probably wished he had such an opportunity yet. He closed his mouth and looked back to his drink. "I suppose you are right." Tseng pursed his lips then leaned forward to pick up the bottle once more. "Maybe I'll book some time off...go see her again."

"I'm sure she would like that." Vincent watched Tseng pour himself another drink but reached over to help him pour it when he saw he was about to spill it. "Reaching your limit?"

"Hardly," he retorted. "Things just...moved a little."

Vincent chuckled softly and set the bottle back down. "I see." Vincent leaned back against the couch, tipping his head a bit to look into the glass he had in his hands. "So...what's your favourite food?"

Tseng raised a brow at the unexpected question. "Favourite food? That's quite the topic change, isn't it?"

"You said it does a person good to have a change of routine, didn't you?" Vincent rolled his shoulder in a shrug, turning his gaze back to the Turk, a small smile managing to appear upon his lips. "A change of topic desn't hurt either correct?"

Tseng stared at him for a brief moment before he too was smiling. "I suppose you're right."

As the night continued on and the drinks were downed one by one, Vincent felt himself feeling more relaxed than he had in a very long time. It wasn't as if he had not felt comfortable around his friends, once he got to know them at least, but there was something about talking with Tseng that made him feel more at ease. The very word 'Turk' was enough to stir fear and anger in people due to the stigma that was tied in with the name, and it was for that very reason why he often did not speak of his past with the others, even if they prodded him to open up more. To be able to speak to another who had done the same or similar work and knowing there was an unspoken understanding helped.

They spoke in more depth of events of their days of youth, first missions they had done, amusing moments on the job as well as unpleasant ones. First dates and break ups, favourite books and passtime activities. At one point in the night, Vincent did end up asking Tseng about his tattoo and had even been priviladged to see the full body art and hear the story behind when and why he had gotten it. He honestly hadn't expected it to be as large as it was. He had imagined it was one that would end upon his back, but the large tattoo of the Leviathan trailed from the front of his left shoulder and over his back to curl down at his hip. It took him a bit to absorb all the details of it, especially with the blurred vision and not to mention he was still trying to absorb the fact that Tseng was sitting shirtless beside him now. He had to admit...the man had quite the figure.

It had all been going well and Tseng was attempting to get up and get the remaining bottles he had stored in one of his cabinets when the unexpected happened. The power went out. 

"I guess this means the party's over?" Vincent partly slurred. It took him a great deal to actually becoming drunk but for as many bottles that they had went through, it was no surprise to him.

Tseng made an indignant noise as he continued to rise to his feet. "Doesn't have to mean its over," he said.

Vincent looked to his side, his enhanced vision able to make out the Turk's form in the darkness, and extended a hand to grab on to Tseng's wrist. "Tseng, I think it's time you call it quits."

Tseng blinked and looked down to where he felt the hand grab on to him, even if he couldn't exactly see him. He dropped down to lean against the couch. "Why?"

"Because you look like you're one more drink away from kissing the floor." 

A lopsided grin tugged at Tseng's lips. "I'd rather kiss something else."

Vincent sat in stunned silence for a moment, followed by a gentle snort and a roll of his eyes. "Now I _know_ you're really drunk," he said, setting down his glass and getting up to his own feet. Vincent shook his head at the snort he heard from Tseng and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Come on." Vincent had only managed to make a partial turn as he went to lift before stumbling and half landing on the couch again. Vincent frowned. "Well that didn't work."

"Are you actually drunk?"

"Just a little," Vincent mumbled. He adjusted his footing a bit and got a better stance to help lift Tseng up. "Now come on, let's get you into bed."

Tseng chuckled and wrapped an arm around Vincent's neck. "Lucky me, getting escorted to bed by Vincent Valentine. Such a gentleman," he said, poking the other in the ribs.  
Vincent helped the other to the bedroom, each of them holding onto one another by keeping one arm over and around each other's necks and the other looping around the waist. The dark haired duo weaved and wavered down the hallway and into bedroom that was just barely lit by the emergency back up lights on the street outside. Once they were close to the bed, Tseng let go of Vincent to flop upon the mattress, however Vincent had not been paying attention to where the bed was as much as where his feet were going so he didn't step on the other's toes, ergo not allowing Vincent the chance to let go of him and inevitably fell on top of him. After Tseng let out a deep 'oof' at the weight on top of him, he snorted. "You don't have to sit on me. I don't plan on leaving."

Vincent cleared his throat. "Sorry." At least he could blame the redness on his face on the booze. Vincent tried to move but with his arm pinned under Tseng and in his drunken state, he was getting no where. "I think I'm stuck," he continued to slur. It was only when he focused his eyes did he realize his face was only a mere couple inches from the other's face.

Tseng chuckled as he looked up at him. "Gravity sucks, doesn't it?" he said as he looked into the other's eyes quite intently, like he was suddenly entranced.

"Except," he said as he lifted his free hand, raising his index finger, "when puking. Then gravity is a good thing."

"True," Tseng agreed. "Unless it hits your shoes. Then that is rather unpleasant." Tseng stared at him for several more silent moments, seeming to take in every detail of Vincent's face for how long he was staring. "I do believe I owe you once more for assisting me yet again," he spoke, his low voice soft and smooth as he raised a hand to touch some of the black hair of Vincent's that was draping over his own.

Vincent stared for a moment when he softly snorted. "You think so, do you?"

Another short silence followed before he spoke again. "It's only proper."

"And how are you proposing to thank me?"

Tseng shrugged a shoulder, not paying any mind to the rumble of thunder heard from outside. "How would you like to be thanked?"

Now it was Vincent's turn to fall silent again. Perhaps it was because of the drinks, or due to the fact that this had been one of the few times that he'd been as relaxed and comfortable as he'd felt in a while, but it was the only thing that seemed to make some sense in his mind as to why he went on to say, "I think you mentioned something about a kiss earlier. The offer still open?"

Tseng smiled as he stared into the ruby eyes of the ex-Turk. "If you want it to be," he said, only waiting just a moment before offering up his reward.

 

**~~~~~~~~~**

 

The first thing that came to Vincent's attention when he had awoken was the heavy throbbing in his head. For a brief moment Vincent had wondered why baby chocobos were tap dancing upon his head but the thought disappeared as soon as he became more aware of his surroundings. The sound of someone's breathing as they slept deeply, the light arouma of sandalwood and sweat...and a black veil of hair draped over his chest that he could tell was not his own, as it was attached to someone sleeping atop of him. And not _just_ sleeping on him but also, from having had it happen before and knowing all too well what it felt like, drooling on him. Vincent had to wonder if there was some strange curse put upon him at some point in time where heavy, muscled men would somehow find him as a comfortable thing to lie and drool on while they slept. It was at that moment Vincent promptly thanked any and all the gods that he could think of that he had never had never had this happen with Barrett. Even if he had been physically enhanced with all the experiments done on himself that kept his body from disintegrating from all of the power it had been given due to his four demonic companions, he wasn't sure he would have survived the night with that much muscle crushing down on him.

Vincent lifted his right hand, as his left was currently pinned beneath the heavy body draping over him, then paused as he realized fully _why_ this man was sleeping on top of him. He remembered the feeling of blunt nails dragging over sweat-slicked skin, teeth colliding in the passion of heated kisses, the sounds of pleasured moans and gently spoken endearments. Right. _That_ had happened. He couldn't exactly remember how and when it happened as he tried to think back to when they may have come to bed, but he could definitely remember many of the things that they had done in bed that night...and how he had thoroughly enjoyed it.

The ex-Turk lie there for the longest time, lost within his thoughts while absentmindedly admiring the tattoo curling over Tseng's shoulder, one that he remembered admiring several times that night. It wasn't until he started to notice some of the stiffness and cramping in some of his muscles that he tried shifting a bit to get out from underneath him, but with the coupled issues of the weight on top of him plus Tseng's arms wrapped around him, he knew that doing such a thing without waking him would be impossible. So awakening him it was. "Tseng, wake up." Where Vincent had expected a discernible response, the only thing he did heard was a groan of someone of whom did not want to get up and a subtle shift of the densly muscled body. "Tseng?" He waited for a moment to see if he would get any other type of response and when none came, Vincent could only roll his eyes. He turned his head enough to speak against the Turk's ear, "Tseng, you realize if you don't wake up, Reno's going to take over as Director for the day. And I wouldn't put it past him to throw a party in his honour. In your office."

That was apparently the key to awakening the man, as his head suddenly jerked up and off Vincent's shoulder and he muttered in a sleepy voice, "I'll roast his nuts over a fire."  
Vincent snorted at the remark and couldn't refrain from adding, "With Jack Frost nipping at your nose?" Perhaps it was a poor joke, but one he found amusing at that moment.

Tseng however did not understand this joke but was instead rather confused. "Hu? What are you-" As his eyes settled upon the man that was currently pinned beneath him and his vision focussed, they began to widen with shock. "Vincent?"

"Yeah..." Vincent gave him a moment, knowing he was most likely trying to process everything that had happened just as he had when he had first awoken. Then Tseng slowly started to shift off him and to the side, the almost panicked look still firmly in place as Tseng covered his face with his hands. "Are you alright?"

Tseng didn't feel alright. In fact he was feeling bad. Very bad, for that matter. "I'm sorry," he said, that being the first thing he could think of saying.

The words caught Vincent off guard to say the least. Without looking, he took hold of the blankets and started to cover himself up a bit more. "For what?"

"For last night," he finally spoke. He pulled his hands away from his face, realizing how bad that may have sounded. He didn't want to give the other the wrong impression. He looked to Vincent, the confusion and tint of hurt in his eyes confirming his realization. "You aren't upset that we..."

Vincent chook his head after the other trailed off. "No...I guess not." He couldn't say that he regretted any of it, the company, the drinks or the activities they had engaged in upon the bed they shared. "I imagine...you do however?"

Tseng rolled onto his side, panic dropping into his stomach with a heavy thud and he stretched out a hand to rest upon the other's shoulder. "No, no, nothing ilke that." He paused, trying to find a way to put his thoughts into words as to not hurt the other's feelings any more than he had just done. He pulled his hand back in a tentative manner.

"I just meant...I can't say that I am pleased with myself for having come onto you while I was drunk." He sighed, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes. "In a manner of respect, I would rather have my wits about me so the other doesn't think that the alcohol was the only reason why I acted as I did." His eyes lifted to meet Vincent's gaze one more. "Does that make sense?"

The explanation did ease some worries on Vincent's part. He'd heard numerous stories of other people where such things happened, and from what he would often hear, things for the most part did not go well between the two people afterwards. And though many may not have expected it from Tseng or often had a chance to see it, the man did have a code of morals that he did follow. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said. The words in turn gave Tseng some relief, the tension draining from his muscles and the Turk slowly lowered onto his back with a faint nod to accompany the action. "So...what now?"

Tseng gently rolled a shoulder as he stared at nothing in particular. "I don't know. What do you want?"

"That's a rather loaded question, don't you think?"

Tseng paused for a moment and turned his attention to the blankets covering his lower half. "I...suppose you are correct." He lifted a hand, pushing back the hair that had fallen over his face. "I guess what I mean to ask is...what would you like to do now with what's happened between us." Tseng looked back to Vincent, a sense of unease about him. "If you wish to leave and continue about your normal routine...or if you wish to stay," he added hesitantly.

Vincent's eyes widened minutely. "Stay as in...just for the morning?" he asked for clarifications sake.

Tseng looked away once more, rolling his shoulder once more. "I'm merely asking what you would like. It is your choice after all. That would be up to you to decide." After a brief moment of silence while fiddling with the edge of his blanket. "Not that I would mind if that was your choice." He almost felt angry at himself for feeling this nervous but he found he couldn't stomp it down unlike other times. This was so unlike himself. He lie there in wait for, the silence in the room almost unbearable as he waited for Vincent's answer. He turned his head to look at the man, noting how he was staring off as well and playing with the edge of the blanket just as he had been doing. "I'm not going to make you feel obligated to make any choice here, Vincent. It's yours and yours alone. So...what do you think you want?"

Vincent lie there for a few moments, silent as he thought. He wasn't sure what he wanted. This was something he hadn't expected to happen, especially when his original intent was to simply make sure that the Turk had made it back to his place safely before he ventured on for the night. He had to admit to himself though...it had been a pleasant turn of events, in more ways than one. Yes, he could easily leave and they could both agree that this was just a one time thing but there was a part of him that was greatly uncomfortable with the idea. Staying indefinitely though...he was unsure if it was something that the other wanted or if he could even become accustomed to such a lifestyle. Tseng did however give off the impression that it didn't seem to be a problem if that was the case however. Feeling torn, he opened his mouth to further question Tseng on a couple of things when his stomach made a gurgle that sounded very much like a guard hound growling. Vincent's face turned a light shade of red and a small chuckle came forth. He lifted his hand to brush over his face and instead went on to say, "For now? I think I want breakfast."

The surprised expression that had taken over Tseng's features at the loud noise quickly disappeared and he too began to chuckle and he extended a hand to pat Vincent's hand. "Sounds like a plan."


End file.
